Broken Arrows
by Sandylee007
Summary: When Phil Coulson and Clint Barton met for the first time he was a teenager who'd been through too much and he was a young agent. Years later death and tragedy tore them apart. Death and tragedy also lead them back together three years later. It's a double story of trust, loss, anger, forgiveness, revenge and hopefully even redemption. SET AFTER AoU RATING MAY RISE TO M
1. Two First Meetings

A/N: A couple of my projects are in a state where they're waiting for the spark to light up once more. Soooo… I decided to let them rest for a bit and grab a hold of this MARVELOUS request I've received.

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE…! Like I'd ever have the money to hire someone like Jeremy Renner… But hey, a girl can dream! And I DO own a couple of Hawkeye figurines and some DVDs. (chuckles) But NOPE, sadly the characters aren't mind. The injustice of the world…!

WARNINGS: MOVES IN TWO TIMELINES, HIGHLY LIKELY CHARACTER DEATH, contains adult themes including death and child abuse, violence, weirdness, language… Okay, stop stomping each other on your way out, it's impolite!

Awkay, because starting out a new story is always unnerving… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 ** _Broken Arrows_**

* * *

Two First Meetings

* * *

/ _Phil Coulson had heard the story a million times before. A poor, unfortunate kid who'd been led to some questionable deeds by the fact that they really didn't have any other choice. To be honest he wasn't entirely sure why he agreed to meet the brat. He definitely wasn't looking for a moody teenager to train and look after._

 _But alas, he stepped out of a hospital's elevator on a miserably rainy day of October. He rubbed his face with one hand, the exhaustion over having been awake for almost thirty hours finally catching up with him. He should've had coffee before doing this._

 _A nurse was just leaving the room when he approached. She was in her late fifties, large and decidedly motherly with her warm brown eyes. She gave him a look of deep suspicion. "The police already questioned the kid", she snapped sharply._

 _Phil gave her his best charming smile. "They weren't from my unit", he explained. "I won't bother him for long, I promise."_

 _She glared at him for several endless moments. He felt tempted to wonder if she was actually able to read his mind. In the end her eyes narrowed. "You'd better not", she huffed at last. "We just had to medicate him to keep him from having a panic attack."_

 _Phil frowned. That… didn't sound exactly promising. The encounter with a possibly heavily doped up kid definitely didn't feel like a good idea. "A panic attack?"_

 _"He had a nightmare. He managed to punch two nurses and kick a security guard at a wall before we had the chance to get the situation under control." She gave him a one more look, clearly still not quite sure if he should be permitted entrance. "He's a terrified kid who has been through far too much. Attack is the only way he knows to defend himself. So go easy on him. And if you distress him I won't hesitate to have you removed from this facility. Is that clear?"_

 _Phil had to bite back a smile. Obviously the boy had already managed to obtain a fan. The realization was oddly heartwarming. "Yes, ma'am."_

 _Phil took a one more, deep breath. Then opened the door. It was the first but certainly not the last time he met Clint Barton._

 _The sight he encountered was miserable. Clint had bruises everywhere he could see and one of the boy's eyes was dangerously close to having swollen closed. A split lip enforced the teenager's grim expression. The eighteen-year-old cradled an arm that'd obviously been dislocated but hadn't been tended to yet. Stubborn to the last, then. As much could be read from those eyes that seemed far too old for someone of the boy's age._

 _Phil moved, his lips parting for a greeting. That was when Clint finally noticed him. The boy's gaze was full of mistrust while boring into his, searching. "You a fed?" That voice sounded so exhausted that it would've shattered anyone's heart. But it wasn't defeated. Despite already having been beaten the boy was obviously ready for another round. Was it insanity or bravery?_

 _Phil blinked twice. "No, I'm not with the FBI." He took a card from his pocket, some sixth sense warning him to keep his motions slow, and offered it to the tense boy. "You've probably never heard of S.H.I.E.L.D…"_

 _"I have." The sharp, immediate answer was a surprise. Enough so to distract attention from the fact that Clint didn't accept the card. A hooded, wary look took over those blue eyes. "I'm a criminal but I didn't realize that I fell into that kind of a radar."_

 _For a moment Phil's poker face failed. Perhaps it did some good because surprise flashed on Clint's face, almost like a realization. The agent sighed, already seeing a long, rocky road ahead of them if the kid would by some miracle accept his proposition. "You're no criminal, Clint", he pointed out. "You've done some stupid stuff. But this is your chance to prove that you're better than those deeds." He folded his arms. "I'm offering you a spot in our training program."_ /

* * *

A lot of people had visited Phil Coulson's grave. It wasn't a surprise. He'd been very well liked within the agency and somehow the man also managed to have a life outside it. There was even a single rose with no note attached to it. Perhaps it was from the agent's famous cellist.

Clint swallowed, unable to erase the bitter taste rising to his mouth. It'd been exactly three years. To date. He'd known to expect that this day wouldn't be pleasant. He hadn't anticipated that he'd still feel like someone had tossed one elephant to his shoulders and another to dance on his chest.

He hadn't been able to convince himself into visiting earlier. During the funeral he was still under evaluation in the Loki-aftermath. And when that was finally over… Well, his head wasn't exactly in the best of places. Seeing the grave and what it meant… It would've been too much. Then missions began to pile up. They were a welcomed distraction. At least he didn't have to constantly face the reminders of his betrayal.

But no amount of running away changed the fact that a lot of good people died because Clint led Loki to S.H.I.E.L.D. Including Phil, one of the very, very few people who'd ever believed that he could be a decent human being. Had it been less bitter the irony might've been amusing.

Clint sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping, and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. He couldn't look away from the stone and the name on it although he would've wanted to. "I'd tell you that I'm sorry." And he meant it, from the bottom of his heart. Even if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "But… What difference would it make? I just… I hope you know, wherever you are."

Wind made the leaves everywhere around him dance and rustle. For a few seconds he could've sworn that he heard steps. It took all his willpower to refrain from looking over his shoulder. He was far too fond of looking back.

"You were the first one who ever believed in me, you know." It didn't occur to him that he'd said those words out loud until they already fell past his lips. He hung his head, watched how the wind made leaves crawl over his shoes. "You shouldn't have." With those as his parting words he began to walk away, feeling old and weary beyond his years.

He was too preoccupied by his thoughts to sense the person watching him.

Five hours later Clint was approaching the Farm. Usually going there made him feel good and lighter, despite all the precautions he was forced to take. But this time he couldn't shake off the nagging voice in the back of his head that whispered about something being badly wrong.

Clint had just parked his car a subtle distance away from the building when his phone bleeped, announcing a new text message. He frowned and fished the item to his hand. What he found made him freeze dead on his tracks.

A second ticked by. Then another. And Clint was running, as fast as he possibly could. He already saw the Farm and opened his lips for a desperate scream. He never got the chance to utter a sound.

The whole building exploded, sending Clint heavily to the ground and into darkness.

* * *

At the age of thirty-five Linda Renner had already been a nurse for over ten years. She'd worked in a hospital for eight of those. Throughout those years she'd become a witness to a lot of memorable things.

For the past couple of hours she'd been observing a man who'd most likely come to visit a patient. The visitor paced around restlessly. Ten times – or actually, eleven now – he'd approached her desk before changing his mind and resuming the pacing. A vast majority of the time passed he'd had a phone in his hand or pressed against his ear. She couldn't hear what he said and she didn't know how to read lips but the news clearly weren't good.

Despite not knowing the man she felt sorry for him because he looked like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Eventually another man, dark skinned and one eyed, appeared. The men exchanged a few heated words before heading towards her. She arched an eyebrow. "How may I help you?"

The dark skinned man ended up being the one who spoke. To his credit he clearly tried to sound polite but didn't quite manage it. "We're looking for a patient named William Brandt. I'm his emergency contact, Nick Fury."

Linda nodded, trying to keep her mind from jumping into guesses and conclusions. She did check the given name, however. It matched the patient's records. "Yes, right." She searched her computer. "He sustained a concussion and some burns, along with a lot of deep bruising. But he's conscious. Actually, he was just transferred to room 221. If…" By the time she looked up the men were already gone.

* * *

Phil knew that Nick was talking to him. On occasion he even responded. But he had absolutely no idea what, exactly, they were talking about.

Three years. Three freaking years of being dead and _this_ was how he was forced to return? It didn't make any sense to him.

"Are you sure that you're up to this?" Nick's gaze held deep suspicion. "This may not be the best timing."

Phil sighed. "What exactly would be a good timing anymore?" It'd already been too long.

It was the second time Phil Coulson met Clint Barton for the first time and something told him that this would be far more challenging than the last.

* * *

TBC?

* * *

A/N: Now there's a start…! So, what exactly happened to Clint's family? Did he lose them? And how is he going to handle Phil's return, especially now?

The word's yours, folks! Good? Bad? To be deleted? PLEASE, do drop a word or two to let me know. You could consider it your day's good deed…

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you again?

Take care!


	2. Nightmares

A/N: It took me a couple of days longer than I would've wanted but here, at last, is the new chapter. Anyone excited? Maybe a little scared…?

First, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, listings and love for the first chapter! Starting a new fic is ALWAYS nerve wrecking. It means a lot that you've joined me on this journey! (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

 **WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH** ; this chapter is, I'm afraid, going to be pretty sad… I'm sorry!

* * *

Nightmares

* * *

/ _When Phil Coulson took Clint Barton away from the hospital the boy didn't utter a word on their way to the building where the trainees were to live. Later he'd learn that such was an unnatural state of being for the young Hawk. When he showed Clint to the teen's new room the boy nodded stiffly and looked around with wary, guarded eyes. After explaining the rules Phil announced that he'd leave the kid alone to unpack. Clint's bags were still fully ready for a swift departure two months later._

 _It didn't take longer than the very first two weeks before Phil was forced to have his first_ talk _with the archer._

 _Phil sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. He suspected that this kid was going to make him grow gray before ripe old age. "According to Anderson's report you attacked five boys who were bigger and far more experienced than you." He skimmed through the medical files. "Chipped teeth… Heavy bruising… A couple of broken noses… Impressive, considering that it took less than ten minutes before the fight was broken off." He didn't sound impressed._

 _Clint, who also had rather nasty looking bruises all over him, sat stiffly. A strange, hooded look took over the teen's eyes. "I'm already packed and ready to go, sir. I don't understand why this interrogation is necessary."_

 _Phil was taken aback. Not because of the words but because of that tone. He explored that teen's eyes but couldn't read anything. "Is that so?"_

 _Clint shrugged. "I usually have to leave sooner or later. Best be ready."_

 _Phil really, honestly didn't know how to comment on that. When he eventually spoke he had hard time keeping his voice in check. "I'm not going to send you away, Clint." Because he was starting to get the feeling that too many people had already turned their backs on the boy. "But whatever it was that triggered you today… We're going to have to discuss it sooner or later." Perhaps not right away, though. Because he saw the dark circles around and the bags underneath those haunted eyes. He'd never seen anyone so battle worn. His lips opened but his pager was faster. He read the message and bit back a curse. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't sneak out."_

 _"Is that an order?" Clint seemed amused. That was a first._

 _Phil found it hard to fight back a grin. "Yeah, kid. It is."_

 _"Old man."_

 _Phil really shouldn't have let any of his protégées talk to him like that. And there wasn't that much of age difference between them. But he couldn't quite bring himself to scold the already beaten looking boy._

 _When Phil returned twenty minutes later he was shocked by what he found. Enough so to halt mid step. He blinked thrice but the sight before him didn't change. Clint had actually curled up on the sofa of his office and fallen asleep._

 _Phil wanted to cover the boy with a blanket but didn't dare to risk disturbing the much needed rest. Besides, Clint looked comfortable enough. So instead he made his way soundlessly to his computer and continued to work. When Clint woke up several hours later the boy pretended that nothing had happened._

 _Phil could've gone through security tapes, of course, but he was old fashioned and preferred to find out the truth in a less devious manner. Three days later one of the other trainees finally revealed what set Clint off. It was two things, actually. At first one of the other boys was stupid enough to sneak up on the archer from behind. And then someone made the mistake of badmouthing Phil. That revelation was quite possibly the last thing the agent expected._

 _So perhaps Clint didn't trust him yet but respect was a great spot to start building from._ /

* * *

Thor and Bruce were away, each for their own reasons. But the rest of the team heard the news at a lightning speed. The message Fury sent them was brief and chilling.

' _The Farm's been compromised. Go and see if you can find any clues. Barton's alive. I'll keep you updated._ '

They tried calling the one eyed man, of course, to demand further answers but his phone was switched off. Which left them with no other choice but to do as they'd been told. Of course they wanted to be there for their friend, to see for themselves that he'd be alright. But if something had happened to his family… They knew that he'd want answers. And if there was any way they could provide such they would.

The sight they met was like stuff from someone's nightmares. The whole building, Clint's very own sanctuary, had been destroyed entirely. After all the years he'd spent keeping it a secret, ensuring that it was safe for the most important people in his life… He'd lost it like _this_? The thought made Steve feel sick.

Natasha swallowed hard. For one, brief moment emotions were loud and clear in her eyes. "Coop and Lila… They should be in school." She gulped again and wiped her eyes swiftly. "But Laura and Nate…"

They'd all seen the scorched remains of Laura's car but had managed to keep it from really sinking in until now. Tony swore loudly and for once the soldier couldn't find the words to scold his friend. The nausea he'd been feeling earlier began to bubble into something far more destructive. "Stark?" he snapped, a great deal more sharply than he'd intended.

Fortunately, Tony didn't seem to notice. The billionaire's hands shook subtly, barely noticeably. "There… are definitely traces of two…" The pause felt incredibly heavy. "… remains, in there."

Steve kicked a stone that'd been unfortunate enough to sit nearby, sending it to a mighty flight. If Natasha and Tony saw it, they didn't say a word. None of them was able to look away from the ruins of what was briefly their hideout as well.

How could everything have gone so wrong, so quickly?

Natasha was so preoccupied by the exact same thought that she shivered when her cell phone rang. She frowned and gave the item a moody expression, as though it was the sole cause to all the horrors around her. What she found made something twist uncomfortably in her stomach. It was the name of a hospital she knew to be rather close, along with another brief message from Fury.

' _Code 12. Get here quickly. There's something important you should know._ '

Those words usually meant no good news. Natasha put the phone away with an unnecessary amount of force. "Stark, find anything you can. Rogers, I need you to pick up Coop and Lila from school. I… They can't come home and find this."

Steve nodded slowly. Then frowned as she began to take her departure. "Where are you going?"

"To do some damage control or damaging."

Tony had faced his share of trauma and tragedy. But this, right before him… It was something he couldn't even imagine. The thought of going through the rubble that buried what little was left of Clint's wife and baby was sickening. Unthinkable. Yet right now, in this moment, it was all he could do for his friend. There was something he desperately needed to do before starting the grim task, though.

The wait was torture. Luckily the one he was calling picked up quickly. " _Tony? Aren't you supposed to be on your way to Paris?_ "

At the sound of Pepper's familiar voice Tony did something outrageously uncharacteristic he hadn't done in ages. In forever. There, staring at the greatest tragedy of Clint's little family, he felt a few tears rolling down his cheeks. "This…" He cleared his throat. "This is gonna sound like a stupid chick flick, but… I really needed to hear your voice right now."

* * *

Cooper was a far brighter than average child. He'd understood from a much too early age that his family was… exceptional. That there was a reason why they had to go to school using a fake-name and had been forced to memorize five different identities. He'd also known for a long time that his dad's job included countless risks.

He'd heard his parents fighting about it when they thought he was asleep. He'd seen his mom wiping away tears when she thought he wasn't looking. He'd seen his dad come home in a condition no child should've seen their parent in. For a long time he'd feared, from the bottom of his far too old heart, that one day his dad wouldn't be able to come home at all.

That day, which he'd definitely remember for the rest of his life, he froze right outside the school's doors. His heart skipped several beats and his eyes widened while absolutely all color left his face. He was shaking and without a warning felt so boneless that it was a miracle he didn't just slump down.

Because Captain America was waiting for him outside the gates and even a child could recognize the sorrow and helpless rage in the man's eyes.

Eventually Cooper began to move forward because he had no other choice. Slowly and dazedly, like in some sort of a nightmare. He didn't realize that he was barely breathing until he began to feel dizzy. The whole worry seemed to be twisting and turning unnaturally around him. He wanted to cry, to scream, but he was too numb for either.

It took something close to a decade before he reached Steve. When he spoke his voice was barely audible. "Dad?"

Steve shook his head. It looked like a ton's weight had just settled to the Captain's shoulder. "No, Coop. It's… It's your mother."

* * *

Fury was there waiting for her when Natasha stormed into the hospital, her eyes blazing a war. "Have you found him yet?" She'd never seen any point in hollow pleasantries.

Fury shook his head, appearing even more serious than usual. "No, but he hasn't left the building and there are only a few possible locations. And the surveillance is decent so we have a lot of footage. We have that under control." The man shifted his weight with… could that possibly be discomfort? "But… There's something else you should be aware of."

In that moment Natasha knew that soon enough she'd punch someone.

Natasha was led towards a room that was most likely more commonly used when the staff and a patient's family needed a discreet place from grim news. The thought sent a chill through her and her jaw tightened. She braced herself in the same way she usually did for one of her missions.

Fury seemed to share her fondness towards silence. Until he broke it when his hand was already on the door handle. "Before you go in… Remember that it was all done for a reason."

"Just open the door or I will", she commanded tightly.

Fury did as he'd been told, highly likely for one of very few times. As soon as there was enough of an opening Natasha marched in. And stopped dead on her tracks.

The man sitting there was supposed to be dead. Yet somehow he was still breathing, staring at his hands with more than a little glazed over eyes. Trembling a little and a bruise slowly yet steadily forming by his right eye. His gaze then rose, meeting hers. And for the first time in years Natasha looked into the eyes of Phil Coulson.

Well, she knew that she was going to punch someone.

* * *

Sitting at the rooftop of the hospital Clint expected to wake up at any second. Because this… This just couldn't be real. Any moment now he'd open his eyes with a gasp and turn around in his familiar bed to find Laura sleeping soundly beside him. And then he'd get up, go to the nursery and find Nate there, also fast asleep. Safe and sound. Because he'd faced this all a million times before. He always woke up eventually. He'd just have to be patient and wait it out.

His nightmares, even the worst ones, always ended sooner or later.

His phone had been going crazy. Natasha… Steve… Tony… They all kept trying to call him and texting him. Asking him how he was. (He'd be okay as soon as he'd wake up.) Steve also let him know that Cooper and Lila were alright. (For the sake of his children he'd _have to_ wake up soon.) Until suddenly the item became incredibly quiet. Maybe it meant that this was all closer to finally being over. He really hoped that it was. He was ready to wake up, now.

"Clint?" Natasha's familiar voice managed to startle him. She approached him slowly but without hesitation, holding out a gray, worn blanket for him to see. "You've been out here for hours. You're freezing." She wrapped the blanket around him almost gently, then sat down right beside him. The words that followed a deep sigh nearly disappeared to the wind. "I'm sorry."

What did she have to be sorry about? This would be over soon. Clint nodded because he wasn't entirely sure what else to do.

He didn't know how long passed. Time didn't seem to have any meaning in this horrific fake reality. Natasha's voice didn't sound like her own when it registered to him. "Are you ready to go back inside now? I have a feeling that the hospital staff is getting impatient."

Clint shook his head vehemently. Unable to speak when even breathing was a challenge. How was he supposed to move when he felt like he was falling down, down, down, a million miles per hour?

He didn't turn to look but he sensed Natasha's nod. "Okay. Then we'll stay right here a little bit longer."

A hand might've grabbed his. His fingers were too numb for him to be sure. Clint didn't feel much of anything at the moment.

He wasn't going to wake up this time, was he?

* * *

Phil felt breathless and old beyond his years when he splashed cold water on his unnaturally warm cheeks. The bruises on his face felt like nothing. It was a miracle that neither former assassin had broken his nose. The true pain lingered elsewhere. Flashes of the past incredibly long hours bombarded his head mercilessly.

The look of shock, disbelief and finally utter betrayal that took over Clint's face.

The fist that collided with his face.

Clint didn't say anything, not even a single word. Somehow that was the worst part. Because sometimes silence is the loudest sound of all.

"We need to give him some time", Fury pointed out and Phil mused, bitterly, if it was one of those many lies the man had tried to make himself and others believe.

"What if no amount of time is enough?" Obtaining Clint's trust once had been pulling teeth. To even imagine that it could somehow be regained after a betrayal like this…

Fury didn't answer his question. "He'll want to know who. And why. For that he'll need our help."

"And then what?"

For the second time in the span of minutes Fury gave him no answer.

* * *

Clint didn't know how he made it back to his room. Or how he fell asleep. They must've given him something. He woke up to the sensation of something approaching. Instantly wide awake and on high alert he sat up the best as he managed to, a pair of unnaturally sharp eyes darting towards the room's door. Daring another nightmare to walk right in.

The door opened slowly. Almost hesitantly. At first he could only see shadows moving and he was instinctively searching for some sort of a weapon until a familiar voice paralyzed him. "Daddy?"

It slammed at Clint like one of his arrows. Right through his heart. And then, before he managed to prepare himself at all, his arms were full.

He'd never heard Lila cry the way she did then. No proper parent wants their child to _ever_ sound like that. She was howling like her whole world had been crashing down on her. "Mommy… Mommy is gone, daddy." And just like that, with those miserably wept words, it was far too real.

Clint held his daughter as though he would've somehow been able to put her life back together. Tightly, desperately. When her hold on him tightened as a response he found himself breaking into soundless sobs of his own.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh my gosh…! I've typed my share of sad stuff. I wonder if this is close to the top…? (winces) Poor Laura and baby-Nate! And poor Clint – and remaining mini-Hawks! This is going to be a bumpy ride…

Sooo… Thoughts? Comments? Was that good, at all? Deletion worthy? That box down below is HUNGRY to know…

Until next time, folks! I really hope that you'll join in then.

Take care!


	3. The Distance Between Us

A/N: First of all… I'm so sorry that it's taken me AGES to update! I've been traveling and my head took its sweet time before figuring out where it wants this story to go. (groans) BUT, I'm FINALLY back now! Hooray…?

THANK YOU, so very much, for your reviews, listings, love and support! This… isn't the easiest story to type, for obvious reasons, and I could imagine that this isn't the easiest to read, either. So, it means THE WORLD that you've decided to take this journey with me. I REALLY hope that it'll be worth it.

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! Enjoy, maybe…?

 **FEELINGS AHOY…! Tissue alert…?**

* * *

The Distance Between Us

* * *

/ _Phil was amused to discover that Clint enjoyed poker. Somehow, as months passed by, they made a habit out of playing a round whenever they got the chance to. They never spoke much but those brief moments were the most relaxed the handler saw his young protégé._

 _That particular evening was the eve of Clint's very first mission and although the young man would've never, ever admitted as much Phil could tell that the boy was nervous. "So…" The older man checked his cards. "Tomorrow's a big day."_

 _"Yup", Clint confirmed, popping the final letter. The trainee agent gave him a suspicious glance. "What, are you gonna give me some cheesy pep talk?"_

 _Phil wrinkled his nose. "Nah. Fury's much more into those." He focused his attention on the cards. "Just come back alive and in one piece." Not exactly the most touching or tender words ever but he hoped that his tone spoke loudly enough._

 _Perhaps it did. For a second something like surprise radiated from Clint. The boy didn't quite smile but seemed to come close. "I'm sure that it'd be unbearably embarrassing for you if I got myself killed on my first mission." The archer's tone spoke volumes, too._

 _"It would", Phil confirmed with a barely concealed smile. He then frowned upon realizing that he was losing the game. "Darned…"_

 _"This is the tenth time you're losing", Clint pointed out. Mirth danced in the younger man's eyes. "I don't know why you even bother anymore. You have no poker face."_

 _Phil couldn't keep himself from chuckling. It didn't slip his attention that Clint almost joined it. Small victories._

 _Waiting for Clint's return from the mission was torture for Phil. He wondered, in some strange place in the back of his head, if it was the way parents worried when their children were away. He should've been able to keep himself professionally detached, of course, but with Clint it was impossible._

 _Finally, after six days, Phil found his way to the S.H.I.E.L.D infirmary. A senior agent named Alexis Thompson, who'd been the leader of the group of five Clint attended to, was there waiting for him. She grinned at the look on his face. "Relax, soldier. He'll be okay. Just some cuts and bruises."_

 _Phil did his best to not appear embarrassed. He glanced towards the door behind his colleague. "How did the kid do?"_

 _Alexis pursed her lips and ran a hand through her disheveled black hair. "He's incredibly talented. And I'll have to admit that he surprised me with his skills." She spent a moment to search for the right words. "But his teamwork abilities need some work. He doesn't trust anyone and unless he's handed only solo missions it's going to be a huge problem."_

 _Phil restrained a wince. He'd feared as much. "We're already working on it", he admitted. "But… That kid's never had anyone who would've had his back. It won't be a joyride." Some shouting could be heard from the room. This time he did wince. "I'll just… get him out of here before he's kicked out."_

 _Alexis chuckled. There was genuine sympathy in her eyes. "He doesn't like doctors, either?"_

 _Phil emitted a suffering sigh. Embarrassment mixed with irritation. "Something tells me that we'll have to work on that, too."_

 _When Phil opened the door he didn't know whether to laugh, cry or just flee as quickly as he could. Clint sat on the hospital bed, still in his uniform that looked like it'd had a lot of better days, and was engaged in a heated conversation with a doctor. The boy's arms and unnaturally pale face held a lot of bruising and his lip had been split. But it looked like he'd managed to avoid broken bones, at least._

 _The second Clint spotted him a heartbreaking amount of relief and disbelief filled the boy's blue eyes. Like the kid hadn't believed that he'd come. "Finally! They wouldn't let me leave before there was someone to keep an eye on me."_

 _The doctor, a rapidly balding middle aged man who seemed to be at the very end of his patience, glared at the archer before focusing on Phil. "Agent Barton has sustained a heavy amount of bruising. There's also a cut on his arm that needed a few stitches. And he has a concussion, which is why I'd feel much more comfortable to…"_

 _"I'll make sure that he rests and recovers properly." How, exactly, Phil would do that was a mystery even to himself. But he needed to separate the other two men before the older one would go against his oath. He frowned as his gaze examined the younger man. "Do you need pain medication?"_

 _"No." A flat-out lie if Phil had ever heard one. But he'd let it slide, just this once. And berate the kid over it later._

 _They left the room and suspiciously relieved looking doctor behind side by side, like proper partners in crime. Clint limping a bit and appearing suspiciously pleased, Phil wondering with some dread what he'd gotten himself into. If only they'd known what a journey it'd be…_ /

* * *

Natasha had already made her opinion on Phil and Fury's secret very clear. Next it was time to reveal the truth to Tony and Steve. Which, in Phil's opinion, was far easier. They barely knew him and were able take the secret with a far less… emotionally loaded response. Steve actually seemed relieved, which was a nice change to rage and betrayal.

"So…" Tony frowned, visibly struggling to make sense of it all. "Where… have you been? How are you alive?"

Phil shivered and was fairly sure that it showed. "That's a pretty long story. Some other time?"

The men conceded but clearly didn't like it. "So…" Tony winced, nodding towards his bruises. "I guess Robin Hood didn't take the news too well?"

"One of those is from me", Natasha announced immediately, her voice a touch more clipped than usual.

They'd been so preoccupied that they didn't notice the small shadow the slipped out of Clint's hospital room. Lila had most likely been planning on stretching her legs. She froze at the sight of Phil, her eyes widening. She seemed to plan on taking a step backwards before pulling herself together. A tiny, hesitant smile appeared to her face, despite the million uncertainties and fears lingering in her fatigued eyes. "Auntie Nat said that you're… back." She gulped, fighting back a storm of emotions. "I… I asked her if mommy and Nate are only on a secret mission, too."

That definitely felt like someone had impaled Phil a second time. The remorse rushed through him like a tsunami. "I… I'm so sorry, kiddo. That they can't come back. And that it took me this long to do so."

Lila shrugged. This smile was just a little more genuine, held childlike innocence. "It's okay. I'm glad you're back. Now daddy doesn't have to miss you, too."

If only it was that simple in the world of adults…

* * *

Clint's injuries didn't require a prolonged hospital stay. However, his doctor would've wished him to stay for a while due to the emotional trauma. Clint hadn't spoken since he woke up and he only appeared even remotely relaxed when both of his remaining children were with him. Perhaps it would've been a good idea for him to stay and meet a psychiatrist but as it was it looked like the four walls of his hospital room were driving the archer insane. So on day four they decided to take him home, promising that they'd arrange a therapist to see the Hawk at the Tower. Which was very easy to arrange with a furiously determined Tony Stark in charge.

Pepper had been watching the billionaire pacing around for hours until she finally decided that enough was enough. She made her way to him and without needing to use a word pulled him to a couch. She held him still with wrapping a pair of gentle yet firm arms around him. "So he still hasn't spoken?"

Tony shook his head. "Rogers heard him screaming last night, but… That's it. It's… It's like he isn't even in there anymore. It's creepy."

Pepper sighed and kissed his hair. Her hold on him tightened. "He's in a shock."

Tony frowned, deep in thought. "I don't think that's it. It's more like he's a bomb waiting to detonate."

Pepper gave him a sad little smile. "Well. If that's the case at least there'll be a lot of people around to help him out when it happens."

Tony, much to his dismay, wasn't sure he was the right person to help. He could invent and put together quite incredible things. But when it came to trying to fix people… Well, it wasn't exactly his area of expertise.

Before Tony could voice that thought the Barton family arrived, escorted by Natasha. Clint gave him a nod of gratitude. The children were only slightly more vocal, giving quiet thank yous for letting them stay.

Tony grinned, hoping that it'd fool the kids even if it didn't come out right. "Hey, stay as long as you like!" He clapped his hands together. "So, who's in a mood for ice cream? Because I have ten different types waiting."

Finally, there was a spark of life and excitement. The children followed him eagerly, even if they cast worried glances towards their dad. Clint moved to follow but Natasha stopped him with grabbing his hand when he swayed. "Oh no. They're in perfectly safe hands, alright? You need sleep."

Pepper nodded, concern loud and clear on her face. "Good idea." She then winced. "I'm going after the kids before the biggest one puts them on a week-long sugar trip."

Clint consented to being led into his room. He even lay down. But two hours later Steve found him from the training room, three broken punching bags keeping him company.

* * *

There couldn't exactly be the traditional kind of funeral. But the people left behind to long them deserved a chance to say goodbye to Laura and Nathaniel Barton. On the morning of the memorial service Clint made sure that his remaining family was as alright as possible, then slipped soundlessly into the toilet of his room and locked the door. The others waited with a perfectly acceptable amount of anxiety until the door finally opened once more and the archer emerged, appearing more than a little unsteady on his feet.

"So." Natasha gave her friend a critical look and clearly didn't like the conclusions she drew. "Are you ready to go?"

Clint shook his head. Still he picked up Lila and walked firmly by Cooper's side as they left only minutes later, following Natasha. The silence that hung over the rest of the team was deafening as they knew that there were no words which could've somehow made the situation better.

The silence was eventually cut when Steve began to make his way towards the kitchen. "I'll just… Make omelets. Or something. None of us has eaten anything today."

"Sometimes he cooks when he's stressed out", Pepper explained.

For a couple of more seconds Tony stared. Then nodded. "Well, if he's taking care of the food then I'm providing the drinks", he decided and kissed Pepper's cheek. "The stronger the better."

* * *

Clint had a nightmare exactly like this, once. Which was quite possibly the cruelest of the many jokes the universe had thrown at him. Too bad he didn't have waking up to look forward to.

There was nothing left of Laura and Nate to be buried. Instead there was a picture, one that'd only survived because it was with Clint during the explosion. One of the exactly two photographs he had left of the mom and baby to show his remaining children when they'd start asking.

This picture had been taken just a couple of days after Nate's birth. Laura had protested at first when catching him snatching it but eventually she surrendered with a bubbling chuckle. She sounded and looked so very beautiful, even if she claimed that she looked disgusting after the baby had kept her awake. She looked happy, too. God, Clint hoped that she really was happy, before…

"Dad?" Cooper looked worried and there were dark shadows under the boy's eyes. When did his son become the parent of the family? "Are you…?"

Clint nodded quickly, almost sharply. Lila's hold on his hand tightened and she took a half subconscious step closer to his comfort. Her eyes were wide and full of tears as they stared at the altar.

"There you are." Natasha's eyes were uncharacteristically soft when she made her way to them. "C'mon, you three. Let's get you to your seats."

Clint followed numbly, robotically. The further they got the tighter Lila's hold on him became. He felt Cooper sneaking constant, concerned glances towards him. Clearly his children were afraid that if they let go or looked away for even a second he'd disappear, too.

Clint would've given anything – anything at all – if he'd been able to make this all go away.

There was no way Clint would've been able to deliver a speech. Others did, though. A friend of Laura's spoke with tears in her eyes about what a fantastic person she was. Laura's mother, despite being barely able to produce coherent sentences, managed to tell a heart shattering tale of how she lost her daughter once, at a carnival.

/ _Upon being found Laura giggled at her mom's worry, with the innocence of a five-year-old. "Don't be silly, mommy. I was only hiding."_ /

Then, catching Clint by surprise, Cooper ended up taking a stand as well. The archer's hearing was still acting up from the explosion so most of the speech, mercifully, went past his ears. He did hear the final bit, however. All too clearly. "We… We'll be okay, mom. I promise. I'll keep watch and make sure of it." The child's far too old eyes shimmered in the building's light while two small fists balled. The first tear rolled, soon followed by many more. "You… You look after Nate, yeah? He's just a baby. You need to look after him."

Clint wondered what they'd say if they knew. If he'd reveal that he was supposed to be home, too. That he would've been if he hadn't suddenly remembered that it was the anniversary of Phil's death and decided to visit the man's grave.

Clint was only alive because instead of spending precious time with his family he was visiting an empty grave, because of the cruelest lie that'd ever been told to him. Another cosmic joke. It made him feel like someone had twisted a knife in his stomach.

And then all other thoughts and sensations lost meaning. Because without a warning and for once forgetting his injuries Cooper dove into his arms, burying himself as tightly as the child could against him. Clint held his son, who was crying for the first time since his mom's death, the best as he could with one arm while his other hand was in Lila's firm, desperate hold. The archer wondered how in the world he was supposed to keep all three of them from falling apart.

It got blurry from there. The priest spoke hollow words of a woman and her child he'd never known. Everyone stood up and it wasn't until then Clint realized that the whole thing was coming to an end. One by one everyone left a single rose in front of the picture. The Hawk's hand was unnaturally steady as he did the same. It felt like he'd been a part of some different reality. Hard as he tried he couldn't look away from the photograph of Laura and Nate. Maybe if he stared long and hard enough…

All of a sudden he felt that he was no longer alone. A tingle passed by his whole body and he tensed up instinctively, turning his gaze towards the potential threat. His heart plummeted into his stomach when he found Laura's mother.

Tears ran down the woman's cheeks as her eyes blazed. It was the helpless, bottomless fury only a parent who had lost their child could experience. Clint knew it now, so well that it hurt. He fully expected her to slap him. Instead she struck with something far more vicious. "I… I always feared that you'd be the death of my baby girl. And now… Now I don't even get to bury her or my grandson!" Her eyes narrowed. "She should've left you when she still could."

That was when Laura's father interfered. Grief had made his face gray and hollow. "Alice, please don't…!" The older man gave him a pain filled look before dragging his hysterically crying wife away.

Clint felt like he'd been gutted. It was a mystery how he managed to remain standing. He wanted to scream so badly that he was shaking. He'd wanted to scream since the explosion, really. Which was why he didn't dare to open his mouth. If he started shouting, he wasn't sure he'd ever manage to stop.

It was a hand placed to his shoulder that pulled him back to the real world. He stiffened, fully expecting another unpleasant surprise. He didn't have the slightest clue what to think when he faced Phil.

The tension could've been cut by a knife. In the end Phil shifted weight with discomfort. "Look… I know that I'm not exactly welcomed here. But… She was my friend. And so are you."

Clint was _not_ in the mood for this right now. He looked around, trying to spot his children. His heart stopped for a few seconds when he realized that the chapel was empty of the funeral crowd.

"They left with Natasha towards the Tower before the… roses. Remember?" Phil's eyes were full of worry. The older man's paleness made his bruises stand out. The new silence was even heavier than the previous one. In the end Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We'll need a very long talk. And… You may never forgive me for staying away for so long. But now's not the time for that because your head's far from that place and you look ready to pass out where you stand. So… I'll take you to the Tower instead." Ache flashed on his former mentor's face at his expression. "Let me do at least that much for you. Please."

Clint did. For the most part because he just didn't have it in him to resist. There was a step more of distance between them than either man would've felt comfortable with as they walked away.

* * *

Phil decided to take the long way to the Tower. He hoped, despite knowing full well how stupid it was, that maybe if he stole a little more time he'd figure out what to say. How to begin closing the distance that'd become a canyon between them. There was also another reason why he chose to steal a few more minutes.

Very soon after slumping into the car Clint fell into a light, uneasy sleep. It was most likely just sheer exhaustion taking the best of the archer. Still, Phil was desperate enough to decide to take it as a pale, tiny hint of promise.

Maybe there was a small echo left of the trust Clint once had on him.

Eventually he was forced to park. Phil sighed, reluctant to rouse the Hawk from the much needed rest. "Clint?" He knew better than to touch the archer in these delicate moments. "Wake up. We're here."

Slowly, perhaps even reluctantly, a pair of exhausted blue eyes opened halfway. For a while the look in them suggested that Clint's mind was entirely elsewhere, clinging to something he may have seen in his dreams. But then the reality came crashing down. The Hawk shivered as the man's shoulders slumped and gulped hard. With a small nod Clint left the vehicle soundlessly and began a slow march onwards.

March on and never stop, Phil mused bitterly, was the story of Clint's life in a nutshell.

Emitting a heavy sigh of his own Phil emerged from the car as well. For a few moments he stared at the massive building, finding himself hesitating. Then, one resolute step at a time, he was moving forward.

He'd never given up a fight and he wasn't about to start now.

* * *

Clint wasn't entirely sure where he was going and what he was planning on doing. But all of a sudden he found himself from a toilet, squeezing the sink so hard that his knuckles had turned white. There were also flakes of blood coating them. How and when did he hurt himself?

Clint couldn't face meeting his own reflection in the mirror. Instead he squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as he could, shaking to the core of his being. And finally gave in to what he'd wanted to do since the explosion.

He screamed at the top of his lungs, unleashing all his pain and sorrow.

Clint wasn't exactly surprised but still shivered upon finding Natasha behind the door when he was finally done. She hid her worry well but didn't manage to fool him. "You okay?"

Clint shook his head. Then spoke for the first time in days. "No." He began to make his way towards the kitchen in a desperate need of something to do. "I'll… have to fix up that toilet a bit but first I need coffee. Do you want some?"

"Only if it's spiked."

* * *

A couple of days passed by. One evening Tony left his favorite laboratory and sauntered to the kitchen to find a surprise from the fridge. He blinked twice.

Someone had been cooking, then. All other evidence had been cleared away but he found a neatly packed up meal that definitely hadn't come from Pepper. They all felt safer with Natasha as far away from the stove as possible and Steve was on a mission. So there was only one option left. Hawkeye could cook? Because the food looked really delicious. The archer was definitely full of surprises. Tony didn't like the almost certain fact that Clint had clearly skipped his own meal. Again. But at least the man was finally _doing something_.

Tony made a quick decision to check up on his friend. Not that he would've been worried or anything. The whole place just happened to feel too quiet with Pepper on a business trip, Natasha training and Steve away. Sure, Clint hadn't been exactly talkative lately but…

All thoughts froze into Tony's head when he heard the soft, gentle singing.

Was that… a lullaby? Yes, definitely. And that voice, marked by recent lack of use, without a doubt belonged to Clint.

Tony knew that he was intruding and had the decency to feel bad about it. But he'd always been too nosy for his own good. And so he peered into the dimly lit room.

Cooper was already fast asleep and Lila seemed to be fighting to maintain the last grasp on wakefulness. Finishing the slightly sad melody, performed in what could've been Russian, Clint whispered something to his little girl. She smiled and nodded, finally closing her eyes for sleep. The archer didn't move an inch until her breath evened out. Tony had been spotted before he could as much as twitch. It was hard to determine which one of them appeared more sheepish.

"What was that song?" Tony whispered at last, careful to not disturb the children.

Clint's jawline tightened for a couple of seconds. The man's gaze strayed towards the kids. "Just… something I heard a long time ago." The Hawk breathed in deep. "I tried to sing the one Laura always used to get them to sleep, but… I can't remember the lyrics. Or that Lila can't stand tomatoes anymore." A flash of raw pain was visible, only for a microsecond but still. "I shouldn't be forgetting all that stuff."

"Hey." Tony patted his friend's shoulder gently with his fist. "You're trying the best as you can. I think you're allowed to cut yourself some slack." He considered for a moment before continuing. "Besides… I know a little something about bad fathers. If you start considering yourself one, I may just have to smack you."

How about that. For just a single passing moment a tiny smile could be seen on Clint's lips. It was blatantly obvious that the archer didn't quite believe him but the gratitude over the effort was clearly evident. Clint's gaze dropped, then rose once more. The man's eyes reminded him of those of a trapped wild animal. "I need some air. Can you keep an eye on them for a bit?" The tone and gaze that accompanied it were more than enough to reveal just how much he was entrusted with. This was all there was left of the Hawk's family.

Tony nodded uncharacteristically solemnly. "I won't let them out of my sight. I swear."

"I'll hold you to that."

A few seconds after Clint's departure Tony was just about to leave and devour the meal the archer had decided to skip. He jumped in a manner he would've never, ever admitted to anyone when Cooper's hushed voice startled him. What got to him far more, however, was the look in the boy's eyes. "He's gonna do something stupid, isn't he?"

Tony's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Of course he won't. I'll make sure of it." He could only hope that he wasn't giving the Barton boys promises that he couldn't keep.

* * *

Nick Fury's head snapped up when someone entered his office after a brief knock. He wasn't sure what to think or expect when he saw Clint. The archer looked like he'd been to hell and back, which certainly wasn't far from the truth. "You're not allowed back to active duty yet", he pointed out.

Clint's eyes flashed. "I didn't come here for that." The younger man's voice was strangely hoarse. "I came to ask if you know who killed my wife and son."

Fury took a deep breath. To be honest he was surprised that it took this long before the Hawk came to demand answers. "No."

Clint's eyebrow bounced up. The man's blue eyes were full of mistrust. "Would you tell me even if you did know?"

"Would you believe any answer?"

Clint snorted. "Honestly? Right now I have hard time believing a word that comes out of your mouth."

Fury sighed, feeling a headache creeping in. "If I find out something… I'll tell you if the safety of you or your family demands it. But right now the half of your family on this side needs you far more than the one of the other side. Don't make Lila and Cooper lose another parent."

As the door slammed after Clint Fury could only hope that he made the right call.

* * *

Far away from the Tower a pair of eyes that gleamed in the room's dim light went through pictures that'd been taken at the memorial service. Drank in the sight of Clint's anguish. A venomous smirk revealed a row of white teeth.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Dang… There's a long, rocky road up ahead. And it looks like SOMEONE isn't going to make it any easier…

 **Just to give you a little hope…** We're on the angst-train now. BUT, there are better times ahead. It'll be a rollercoaster but… Try to make it through? Like the Bartons hopefully will?

Sooooo… Was that any good? At all? PLEASE, do let me hear from ya! It'd mean a world, especially when I'm coming back to this after such a long break.

Awkay, I really have to get going. Until next time! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


End file.
